


chill the night

by walkthegale



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: F/F, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 07:26:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14827980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkthegale/pseuds/walkthegale
Summary: They don’t talk about it the first time.Written for Week 1 of the Hackle Summer Trope Challenge -Bed Sharing.





	chill the night

They don’t talk about it the first time.

Ada finds Hecate pacing the corridors, in the still, empty hours when all the castle sleeps around them.

She knows it has been a difficult week, in a difficult month, in a difficult term. She has watched Hecate’s face close in on itself, gradually, the line of her jaw tightening a little bit each day, her body held tense and arrow-straight, as though she’s stuck pins through all her limbs to keep herself upright, to keep herself going.

Ada can’t sleep that night and, afterwards, she wonders if it was because she could sense Hecate’s quiet desperation, radiating through the halls, through her closed door, and permeating the room like fog.

She can’t sleep, and she has never been one to toss and turn, so she gets up, pulls on a dressing gown, and decides to walk off her excess energy and tumbling thoughts.

There’s a way she goes, on nights like this, that winds through all her favourite parts of the school, up and down staircases and past big windows with views over the forest. She makes it some distance before she turns a corner and almost bumps into Hecate, striding her own anxious path. Hecate doesn’t jump, but she does let out a small, startled noise that she quickly turns into a cough.

“Ada,” Hecate says, before she has quite regained control of her tone, so her voice wavers just a touch. It hasn’t been long since Ada finally convinced her to use her first name, and she’s pleased that Hecate is remembering to even under stress. She’ll still use _Headmistress_ in front of the girls, but Ada couldn’t bear the formality of being _Miss Cackle_ between the two of them when they’re on their way to becoming real friends.

“When did you last sleep?” Ada finds herself asking, not realising she’s going to say it aloud until she does. Hecate’s eyes are deep and hollow in a face that’s even paler than usual.

The shadow of a smile quirks at the corner of Hecate’s mouth. “It’s nearly the holidays. I’ll sleep then.”

Ada looks at her for another moment, takes in the way she’s almost shaking with exhaustion despite herself, thinks about going back to her own room alone and trying again to sleep through the worries that insist on making their useless circuits around her brain.

Acting before she can think better of it, Ada takes hold of Hecate’s hand and leads her back through the dark school, a route she could walk blindfolded if she had to, all the way back to her room, with Hecate following in step, as though this was a thing they did every day.

Inside, with the door shut behind them, Ada conjures some tea, in a blend of her own devising that may or may not prove soothing, but will definitely at least be delicious. Left without Ada’s guiding hand, Hecate stands awkwardly in the middle of the floor, until Ada ushers her over to sit on the bed and gives her a cup. She sits down next to Hecate, arranges pillows behind them both, and settles back, tea held warm between her hands, giving Hecate a moment to find her equilibrium.

There are a few seconds where she thinks that Hecate might make her excuses and transfer away at speed, but then instead she sighs, and she stays, letting her slippers drop to the floor and stretching her long legs out in front of her.

They talk, then, starting with a few, hesitant words that build to uncertain sentences, and finally to a more comfortable conversation. Hecate shares a little about how she has felt this term, and in the privacy of her mind, Ada celebrates that as a victory. In return, Ada talks about some of her own stresses and strains, and a few of the things she wants to change.

They talk, and they drink their tea, and if Ada notices some of the tension leave Hecate’s body, if she sees Hecate’s eyelids begin to droop, she doesn’t say so.

Even in sleep, Hecate doesn’t seem entirely relaxed, but her hold on herself loosens just enough that she leans against Ada’s shoulder. She’s warm, and somehow an incredibly comforting presence, and Ada doesn’t dare to move in case she disturbs her. Listening to Hecate’s slow, even breaths, it doesn’t take long for sleep to claim Ada too.

***

Ada is awoken in the morning by Hecate gingerly disentangling herself from her side. She opens her eyes just enough to see Hecate slide her feet back into her slippers and transfer silently away.

Her room feels emptier once Hecate is gone than it did before she was there.

***

They don’t talk about it, afterwards.

Life goes on, much as it did before. The end of term is a little less stressful than the beginning was, but the holidays are welcomed by staff and pupils alike with open arms.

For Ada, this break mostly means more work, as she sets about planning for a fresh and better start next term, and amending what she can from the last. She knows she should rest, and she will. Just as soon as she has the time.

She’s at her desk late one night, late enough that it probably counts as early one morning, really, but she just has to finish this last thing and then she’ll go to bed. She’s considering a walk to clear her head, when there’s a rap on her door, light and tentative, as though the person on the other side has already changed their mind before they’ve finished knocking.

“Come in?”

The door remains closed and Hecate transfers inside. She’s carrying a pot of tea, her usual black robe pulled tightly around her, and her hair long and loose down her back, and she might be the most beautiful thing Ada has ever seen.

They sit together on Ada’s bed, and they drink tea, and they talk about the school and their lives, about the present and the future, and maybe their arms brush together a few more times than can strictly be counted as accidental.

This time when they drift off, Hecate’s body is curled around Ada’s, her arm draped over her waist, and with Hecate there between her and the world, Ada sleeps.

When she wakes in the morning, Hecate is still there, looking at her. Seeing Ada’s eyes open, Hecate starts to pull away, to scramble off the bed, an apology on her lips. Ada puts her hand gently on Hecate’s arm.

“Stay?” she asks, half-afraid.

And Hecate does.


End file.
